


midnight memories

by zhovel



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/F, Mutual Pining, band au, bassist hyejoo, drummer yves, fwb or lovers? sooyoung doesn't know either, guitarist jinsoul, i just want to see jinsoul in emo eyeliner sue me, vocalist kim lip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28389249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhovel/pseuds/zhovel
Summary: “Why are you ashamed of me?” Sooyoung says.(In which they are in a band and famous, and Sooyoung doesn’t want to hide anymore.)
Relationships: Ha Sooyoung | Yves/Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul
Comments: 54
Kudos: 241





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> we all know where the title is from. 
> 
> originally titled "all out of faith".

They crash into the hotel room with their lips locked and hands roaming. Sooyoung only manages to cast a single, hasty look at the door, making sure it’s locked so that no one can barge in like last time before Jinsol’s eager hands start unbuttoning her shirt; then everything else is forgotten in favour of—of whatever this is. The voice in the back of her head points out that they’ve been stuck in this limbo for months already, but it’s easy for Sooyoung to ignore all her misgivings when Jinsol is right in front of her, arching into her touch.

(She would’ve known that Jinsol was high off the energy of being on stage even if she hadn’t been there right alongside her, because of the way Jinsol tilts her head and pushes back into the kiss, more needy than usual. They all have their ways of winding down after a performance. Jungeun bakes, Hyejoo puts on her headphones and stares moodily out into space; and Jinsol— 

Sooyoung’s just a willing accomplice to whatever she needs.)

She pushes Jinsol onto the bed, marvelling at the rapid rise and fall of her chest; the smooth expanse of her skin. The initial shyness between them has evaporated into thin air long ago. Now Jinsol sprawls onto the bed, not even bothering to cover up, dark eyes boring into her.

But today, she doesn’t make a move to tug Sooyoung down like she always does. Instead, she just gazes steadily up at Sooyoung with this intense, unreadable look on her face that Sooyoung probably shouldn’t be finding as sexy as she does. Sooyoung swallows, trying not to let on how flustered she is. 

“What?”

Jinsol parts her lips, but doesn’t say anything.

Sooyoung’s hands still against Jinsol’s stomach unconsciously. 

It is at moments like this that she remembers that no one knows about the two of them. For as long as she can remember, it’s always been secret corners and sneaking back into her room at three in the morning. Sooyoung doesn’t mind the late nights—it’s just that sometimes, she wonders if she even knows the real Jinsol, or if she’s just seeing what Jinsol wants her to.

It’s easy to mistake Jinsol for an open book. She laughs at stupid jokes too easily and cares for her friends right out in the open, but lately, Sooyoung’s been noticing that Jinsol holds her cards much closer to her chest than everyone else. Their friends don’t seem to notice it—or mind, Sooyoung supposes—because Jinsol is the type of person to just roll with whatever life throws at her. The one time Sooyoung asked Jinsol about why she started the band, Jinsol’s face had contorted into something so anguished that Sooyoung never quite dared to broach the topic ever again. Hyejoo had pulled her aside after that, warning her not to pry about Jinsol’s past because it wouldn’t help either of them, but she had also taken pity on Sooyoung afterwards and let slip that Jinsol has a complicated past. A troubled history with an ex, something about it taking a toll on all their friends, and it was the reason why their band even existed in the first place. Sooyoung had decided, that day, that she would never take more from Jinsol than she’s willing to give.

Sometimes, the thing she has with Jinsol feels fragile, like it would shatter under Sooyoung’s fingers if she pressed too hard. Sooyoung has learnt to play by Jinsol’s rules instead. Jinsol makes the first move. They don’t let anyone know about them. There are parts of Jinsol Sooyoung will never get to learn. 

“You’re thinking again,” Jinsol murmurs, reaching out and laying her hand on top of Sooyoung’s. Her thumb rubs circles on Sooyoung’s knuckles. 

Sooyoung stares down at Jinsol, her flushed face and swollen lips and barely remembers how to breathe. There’s a sudden, strange yearning in her chest at the sight of Jinsol trapped under her, the way Jinsol just—she’s just watching Sooyoung watch her, and it’s a kind of intimacy that leaves Sooyoung feeling like she’s been stripped raw. 

“Sooyoung?”

She’d quite like to kiss the furrow in Jinsol’s brow away, Sooyoung thinks, and promptly reels back from the shock of it. 

The thought is too sudden, too foreign. When Sooyoung tries to grasp at the hollowness that it leaves behind, it slips away, elusive. (She will manage to find the word for it later that night, when Jinsol’s gentle snores fill the air and Sooyoung’s left staring at the faint glow of moonlight on her bare back. The longing in her chest will tug at her, will swell and overwhelm and threaten to crash down on the last strands of the tethers holding them together.

But for now, Sooyoung doesn’t think about it.)

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she blurts out. 

Surprise flits over Jinsol’s face, the briefest of expressions—and if she hadn’t been holding all of Sooyoung’s attention captive, Sooyoung would’ve missed the moment. Sooyoung ends up looking away, because it feels wrong to catch Jinsol with her guard lowered. But even so, for a second, Sooyoung almost dares to hope that they might get somewhere with this, might break all the unspoken rules of their little twice-a-week thing and push forward into something she isn’t sure that either of them are prepared for. 

But instead, Jinsol’s expression hardens. She snakes her arms around Sooyoung’s neck to pull her closer, then she’s kissing Sooyoung, determination in the way Jinsol leans towards her, fingers curled against Sooyoung’s thighs. Sooyoung swears she can taste blood. 

It feels wrong. Something underneath that is desperate, it’s aching. 

“Wait, Jinsol,” Sooyoung says, pushing at Jinsol. Jinsol mumbles something incoherent and clutches at her harder, insistent, and Sooyoung doesn’t really want to pull away. But she still breaks away from Jinsol even though all she wants to do is to kiss her silly, because deep down, it feels like the right thing to do. “Promise me that you’re really fine.”

Jinsol gives her a look that makes Sooyoung lean back, feeling foolish. “Nothing’s wrong,” she says sharply, and digs her nails into Sooyoung’s shoulders. Jinsol flips the two of them around, harder than she needed to, so she’s the one straddling Sooyoung instead. 

Sooyoung blinks at her, hurt. “Jinsol—”

“Stop talking,” Jinsol says, then her voice dips into something more seductive, less strained. “Sooyoung, _baby_ —” 

Then Jinsol’s mouth is on Sooyoung’s, claiming her attention. 

This time, Sooyoung doesn’t fight back. She closes her eyes and lets Jinsol cup a hand against her jaw, other hand slowly making its way down. If this is how Jinsol wants to distract her, Sooyoung thinks, dazed, then she wouldn’t exactly mind.

If this is what Jinsol needs.

In the morning, Sooyoung wakes up to the other side of the bed empty, already cold. She flings an arm over her eyes and doesn’t manage to go back to sleep.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sooyoung can’t pinpoint the exact moment it became a _thing_. Maybe it was sometime after she auditioned, when Jinsol had come rushing up to her and the words had spilled out of her lips. “Oh my god, Sooyoung right? Did I get your name wrong? You have to join us, you’re perfect for us, I’ll convince Hyejoo about you don’t worry you’ll get in—”, and she sounded completely, utterly sincere. Sooyoung hasn’t had a single person believe in her like that since—since pretty much forever. (It didn’t help that Jinsol was gorgeous. Dark hair, even darker eyes; a jawline so sharp that Sooyoung’s heart had felt like it would burst the first time Jinsol had smiled at her.)

Sooyoung knows how it feels to be around girls like Jinsol. One careless move, and she is Icarus flying into the sun. 

And yet, she still watches Jinsol’s back as the lights go down. Her silhouette stands out against the bright sea of flashlights, and Sooyoung finds herself waiting for Jinsol to turn around so she can catch the wonder in her eyes at the sight of the crowd, something that only grows as the years go by. Somewhere along the way, the thing between them had morphed from casual touches into something more, something deeper. Jinsol kissed her for the first time before the performance that led to their big break, a shy, fleeting press of her lips against the corner of Sooyoung’s mouth. “For luck,” she had whispered, and Sooyoung had played her best that night. 

(If Sooyoung was being honest, she never thought they’d get this far. She hadn’t taken music seriously before she joined the band. Playing the drums had been a side passion of hers, buried under university and working and fending off her family’s urging to get a boyfriend disguised as well wishes. The only reason why she was even in the band was because of Jinsol—Sooyoung had spotted her playing in a bar alone, and ended up following all her social media accounts. Months later, when Jinsol posted the call for auditions, Sooyoung had shrugged to herself and thought, might as well.

Or so she tells herself. But the other version of the story is that Sooyoung could just have easily fallen in love the first time she saw Jinsol, when she noticed how Jinsol seemed to hold her guitar like it was a part of her, like the music runs through her blood and her soul belongs to it.) 

“Hyejoo!”

Sooyoung catches the sound of a guitar case being flung onto the floor, and winces. 

Her bandmates are back at it again. It’s not a rare occurrence for them to fight over album concepts, but usually Sooyoung stays out of it, not particularly invested in the production side of things. But then she catches a soft “yeah, but it’s Sooyoung—” from the other room, and finds herself straining to listen instead.

“How about we actually _ask_ her?” says Jungeun.

“No.” And from the harsh tone of Jinsol’s voice, she isn’t planning on backing down any time soon.

Hyejoo grunts. “If you weren’t such a pussy about—” 

“Yeah, you’re not doing that to her,” Jinsol says, louder this time, and Sooyoung finally caves. She had been putting off practice for as long as possible, so she hadn’t wanted to join the others yet, but curiosity got the better of her. 

She kicks the door open and leans against the doorway just to be dramatic.

“Ask me what?”

Three pairs of incredulous eyes land on her. Sooyoung points a drumstick carelessly at the nearest person—and in this case, it was Jinsol, looking so grumpy that it's almost comical. 

“You know the door was propped open, right? I was right there.”

When Jinsol finally glances at her, it is half-guilty and half-ashamed. “Well—”

Jungeun snorts. “She didn’t know.”

The smile creeps onto Sooyoung’s face, slowly. “Yeah, I figured,” she says, and lets go of the door, plunking herself down in her usual seat instead. She taps the drumstick against her knee. “So. What’s up?” 

The three of them exchange glances. Sooyoung watches the silent conversation happen, already expecting it even before she had asked the question. And finally— 

“So, you gonna tell her, or me?” Hyejoo breaks the silence from all the way on the other side of the room. Jinsol crosses her arms and scowls down at the floor, making Sooyoung raise an eyebrow. (Officially, Jinsol is the leader of the band, but Hyejoo is the one who really calls the shots because usually Jinsol concedes when they disagree, not liking any sort of conflict.) 

It is Jungeun who lays a hand on Sooyoung’s arm, however. “You know Chuu? Actor-turned-pop singer?”

“Yeah?”

Jungeun’s lips thin. “Well, she reached out to us. She wants to collab with us—well, feature one of us in her latest song, more specifically.” 

“It _will_ be great promo for us,” Hyejoo adds, making a face at Sooyoung.

“That— that’s good, isn’t it?” Sooyoung says slowly, frowning. “If the music video drops before our tour announcement, the fans would be happy about it.” 

“Yeah,” Jungeun says, dragging out the word as if Sooyoung’s being stupid, “but it’s _Chuu_. You’ve seen her music videos, right?”

It takes a moment for it to hit Sooyoung, but when finally it does, her mouth drops right open. “ _Ohhh_.”

Kim Chuu, whose music videos are censored left and right but still trend every two months. She’s broken all the stereotypes around women and sexuality and queerness, but somehow managed to remain loved by the public and carve a space for herself in mainstream music. As she’s grown bigger, her videos have only gotten more and more outrageous—the last one had stayed on the #1 spot on Melon search for weeks, and it was just Chuu making out with a woman for a full four minutes as her newest release plays in the background. 

Sooyoung respects her with every inch of her being. 

“I… don’t see a problem with that?” 

“Yes, well,” Hyejoo replies, starting to sound a little impatient. “She wants _you_ to star in her video.”

“I don’t want to whore you out for a music video,” Jinsol cuts in harshly.

Sooyoung’s heart leaps.

“Jinsol!” Jungeun shoves at the girl in question, then turns to Sooyoung. “Look. Really, it’s your decision. The company said yes, we’re all good with it as long as you’re comfortable, Jinsol’s just—”

“I’m not being prissy about it,” Jinsol says, slouching down in her beanbag, “I just want you guys to stop pressuring Sooyoung.”

Sooyoung twirls her drumsticks between her fingers thoughtfully. 

“You _know_ people are going to assume, right?” Jinsol grouches, when Sooyoung doesn’t reply. Sooyoung meets her eyes. Jinsol tilts her chin up at her almost challengingly, the moment charged with something that makes Sooyoung feel like she’s on fire. 

Sooyoung darts a look at Jungeun, whose ears are slowly reddening. Hyejoo is staring at the two of them, expectant. Sooyoung breathes in, looks away, and finds Jinsol’s gaze again. 

“I didn’t say that I would mind.”

 _Thud_.

Jinsol’s phone slips onto the floor. It lands face down on the floor, but she doesn’t even bother with looking over. All she does is to stare at Sooyoung with this terrible, betrayed look on her face, like Sooyoung had tried to pull away from Jinsol when she needed her most.

For a moment, no one speaks. Then just as suddenly as the noise, Jinsol pushes the fire exit open and runs. The building they're in is small enough that the sound of her footsteps down the hallway echos. Out of the corner of her eye, Sooyoung catches Jungeun wince to herself.

Sooyoung gulps. “It’s not my fault, right?” she says, turning to Hyejoo. “Right?”

Hyejoo sighs. “Maybe you should go talk to her,” she says, looking at Sooyoung with eyes that are far too knowing for their own good. “This is between you guys.”

“She’s just— she’s just worried,” Sooyoung fumbles out, then flees from the room to chase after Jinsol.

Sooyoung finds Jinsol at the end of the corridor, staring out of an open window with her hands shoved into her pockets. She almost looks peaceful like that. Sooyoung’s almost afraid to disturb her. Instead, she just shuffles her feet so that Jinsol knows that she’s there, and waits.

“I don’t have a problem with Chuu,” Jinsol finally says. She doesn’t turn around. “You’re the problem.”

It’s more blunt than Jinsol would usually allow herself to be. “Oh,” Sooyoung says, taken aback, because she really doesn’t know how else to react. 

Jinsol gives a sharp puff of air through her nose. “Not like that,” she replies, voice gentle, but doesn’t bother elaborating. Sooyoung watches the breeze brush strands of hair off Jinsol’s shoulders almost playfully, and her heart tugs again. 

(Last week, Jinsol had drunkenly professed that she hadn’t kissed a single person since they started the band. Sooyoung had to take a sip of her drink right after so she didn’t burst into giggles, because Jinsol had met her eyes from the other end of the sofa and gave her a grin that had said, _they don’t know, do they?_ But now, in broad daylight, it doesn’t feel as funny anymore.)

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Jinsol says, “I overreacted back there. I’m— I’m not the greatest when it comes to sharing. You know me.”

 _No I really don’t_ , Sooyoung thinks.

“You really don’t want me to film with Chuu, do you?” she says instead.

“And have everyone see you kissing another woman?” Jinsol says, huffing out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not a martyr, Sooyoung.” 

“I wouldn’t do it if you tell me not to.”

Jinsol finally turns around. Under her burning gaze, Sooyoung feels like she’s being scrutinised. “You want to do it, don’t you?”

Sooyoung looks down. “Yeah, but—”

“I’m not going to stop you. It’s your decision.” 

“But we could—” Sooyoung says, waving a hand between them— “we could _tell_ them. They’d understand. I don’t even mean the company, Jungeun and Hyejoo would help us if they knew.” 

“You know why we can’t, though.” Jinsol steps closer, a hand brushing Sooyoung’s face, almost a dare. “You understand.” 

Sooyoung can’t help but to lean into her touch, as much as she hates it. 

She knows. 

They blew up too fast, too sudden. One day they were setting up for yet another performance in the biting cold of winter, hoping for their big break; the next they were signed onto a label and sent touring across Korea, with the rest of the world soon to come. Their fans are overwhelmingly young and female. Sooyoung still can’t believe it, sometimes. It’s more than she ever dared to dream of when she auditioned. 

But it had come with a price. Even though Sooyoung knows that this was her choice, she still mourns the chance to be able to explore herself without being in the spotlight. They were too young, back then, when they got their first taste of fame. There are things out there that Sooyoung will never be able to take back. There are people who would sell their souls for a glimpse of their private lives. All she can do is close her eyes and pretend they don’t exist. 

Sooyoung wonders if that’s what Jinsol is afraid of. Why _her_ , out of all the people Jinsol could have chosen?

Sometimes Sooyoung looks at Jinsol, and feels like her heart is ripping itself apart. She’d quite like to hate Jinsol for it, she thinks, but unfortunately, Sooyoung is also weak when it comes to all things Jinsol. This is what happens when two people do everything that’s dating without ever giving it a label, she supposes. This is what happens when they don’t ever talk about it. And maybe, it was also her fault for never asking what this is. 

But like Icarus flying into the sun, Sooyoung can’t help but to reach out and want more. It’s too easy to tell herself that this is what she wants. That this is enough, that Sooyoung doesn’t want more, that—

“You need to stop thinking when you’re around me,” Jinsol murmurs, and leans forward to grab her by her hands and tug her forward. Sooyoung stumbles. Jinsol steadies her by the waist, then steals a kiss from her. “Come on. You can tell them you’re filming with Chuu.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The studio is much quieter when Jungeun and Hyejoo finally leave. They had left their notes sprawling across the table, but Sooyoung doesn’t dare to rearrange them because last time, Hyejoo bit her head off for messing with the order of the papers. Sooyoung _swears_ they all look the same, just scribbles and doodles— how was she supposed to know that they were Hyejoo’s notes if none of the lines look like lyrics?

Jinsol frowns down at her guitar as she plucks at the strings, humming notes under her breath, then scribbles something down on her tablet.

“Still working on the same one?” Sooyoung asks, scooting over to wrap a careful hand around Jinsol’s shoulder, pulling her closer to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Want a massage?"

“Not now,” Jinsol groans, leaning into her embrace. “The emotions aren’t right yet. There’s something wrong with the song. Please don’t tell me it’s the melody, I’ve been working on it for weeks and it’s almost done.”

It’s a thing that happens more often than not, the two of them writing late into the night. Sometimes Hyejoo’s there, never Jungeun. Sooyoung is in charge of food runs when Jinsol gets too sucked into the music, but it’s just another thing Sooyoung adds onto the long, long list of why she loves Jinsol.

Sooyoung gives Jinsol’s shoulder a sympathetic pat. “Hey,” she says, “stop stressing. “Stop stressing. It’s fine. We have months to work on this.” 

“Yeah," Jinsol says, and closes her eyes, resting her head on Sooyoung's clavicle. But the moment doesn't last long. Jinsol pulls away, rubbing at her face. "I can't. We still need to record and layer on the instruments then there’s the collab, so you’ll be busy for a couple days, and—” 

Sooyoung’s learnt to treasure the rare moments when Jinsol lets her guard down like this. Usually, she lets Jinsol talk it out when she gets frantic like this, but this time, Sooyoung’s heart threatens to pound out of her chest the fondness she’s feeling. 

“Jinsol,” she says, before she can think about what a bad idea that is. 

Jinsol stops mid-sentence. “Mm?”

Sooyoung snaps her mouth shut. It feels like a crime to even think about putting what she's feeling into words, especially when they have an unspoken agreement to never talk about the boundaries that they break. It would be a mistake. 

So she just kisses Jinsol instead. She cups Jinsol’s face with both her hands, and tries to pour everything she’s feeling into something other than words. How much she needs Jinsol, how much she wants to take the time to love all parts of Jinsol, even the ones that Jinsol has decided to lock away forever. Sooyoung might not understand, but she’s willing to put the effort in. She doesn’t want to share Jinsol with the world and she wants more than what they have and she hates that she crumbles so easily when it comes to Jinsol.

This time, Sooyoung kisses Jinsol like there’s no tomorrow; because maybe there won’t be once Sooyoung asks for anything more than this. 

If Sooyoung had known that it would snowball into something as confusing as this, maybe she would’ve stopped Jinsol the first time she kissed her. (She wouldn’t have. Sooyoung is a coward as much as she is a drummer, she buries all the feelings that surge up inside her at the thought of Jinsol belong to someone else so she doesn’t have to lose Jinsol, because never fully having Jinsol would be better than not having her at all.)

Sooyoung gasps, sounding somewhere between wounded and needy. Jinsol pulls away, and curls her fingers against the side of Sooyoung’s face, and it’s so tender and loving that Sooyoung’s heart hurts. 

“Jinsol, I— I want—” 

Jinsol seems to read her mind, even before the words formulate properly. She slides her hand over Sooyoung’s, intertwining their fingers. “Not here,” Jinsol says, tongue darting out to wet her lips. Sooyoung reaches out, traces the bottom of Jinsol’s lip with her thumb, and Jinsol’s eyes track her every move. “Not now.” 

“Okay,” Sooyoung replies, because she is in love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look i originally meant to write this as a oneshot and leave it as an open ending where sooyoung is in love and jinsoul is an ass about feelings but miss invertedpyramids who is a horrible enabler convinced me to make it multichapter. hope u enjoy the thought of jinsoul in eyeliner. leave a comment kudos subscribe u know the drill. i hope u imagined me saying that like a youtuber. i'm so sick of 2020. please wear a mask. (n ty ana for betaing)
> 
> toodles!
> 
> twitter: [yvezoul](https://twitter.com/yvezoul)  
> curiouscat: [yvezoul](https://curiouscat.me/yvezoul)  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

Sooyoung never manages to broach the topic.

In between meetings and practice and yet more meetings, they barely get enough time to rest. Sooyoung doesn’t manage to talk to Jinsol alone. She casts longing glances at her whenever Jungeun and Hyejoo’s backs are turned—she’s certain that Jinsol _knows_ , but it’s impossible to not think about the stupid elephant in the room when Jinsol is always right there in front of her, tantalisingly within an arm’s reach. 

Sooyoung blinks, and suddenly it’s been a week. 

Chuu’s agency sends them a fifty page contract. Their band’s manager had gotten his hands on it beforehand; he had circled the part about payment on the first page and added a little sticky label on the side— _enough????_. Sooyoung flips through the document gingerly, catches the words _film_ and _prolonged skinship_ shamelessly in bold, and drops the stack of papers like she’s been burnt.

Something about seeing their agreement printed out like this leaves a bad taste in her mouth. Sooyoung decides that she doesn’t really need to read it.

“You really shouldn’t sign things without at least skimming through them,” Jinsol says, watching Sooyoung flop back down on the sofa. “That’s like, rule number one of life. Who raised you?” 

Sooyoung searches for maliciousness in her tone out of habit, but there isn’t any. When it’s just the two of them, Jinsol is a different person; stinging barbs replaced with something less guarded. Sooyoung decides to relax back into the sofa, cheek squished against the soft cushioning of the seat.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She raises a dangling arm to flap her hand in Jinsol’s general direction. “It’s too early for this. Give me a pen?”

Jinsol sends her an unamused look. Any sane person would have taken it as a threat; but instead, Sooyoung has to push down the smile threatening to spread across her face.

Maybe it’s the fact that Jinsol looks younger without her raccoon eyeliner on. When it’s just a day at the company, no threat of being recognised on the street, she doesn’t bother with her usual dark makeup and her signature fishnets. She can’t remove the purple streaks in her hair, but still, Jinsol feels much more human like this; less angry and intimidating. Sooyoung loves this version of her just as much as she loves the performer. 

How can she not? It’s so much harder to _not_ fall in love with Jinsol. Sooyoung doesn’t blame their fans, really, for the way they adore her. 

Sooyoung takes one look at Jinsol, at the soft roundness of her cheeks; and her resolve crumbles. With the pout on her face, Jinsol looks like she could be one of the kids that Sooyoung had babysat as a teenager, when they would stick their bottom lips out and beg until Sooyoung gave them her phone, so that they could play Angry Birds or whatever dumb game that was trendy with the kids on it. 

The opportunity to tease Jinsol is right there… 

“Please, _baby_ ,” Sooyoung coos, rolling over to face Jinsol and puckering up her lips. “You look so pretty today. Do you have foundation on? Your skin looks so good...” 

“I know what you’re doing, Ha Sooyoung,” Jinsol informs her, but Sooyoung catches the pleased expression flitting over her face a moment before it disappears. “You look ridiculous like this.”

Sooyoung props her head up with an arm. “I’ll make it worth your time if you just pass me the goddamned pen,” she says, tilting her head, exposing the smooth expanse of her neck. Sooyoung knows that she’s good-looking, she had coasted along in life because of it. She knows how to use it to her advantage. And even though Jinsol likes to pretend that she’s all rough edges and angry guitar riffs, Sooyoung still knows her enough to tell when she’s in the mood to fool around with Sooyoung. Sure enough, after a split second of eye contact, Jinsol grabs the pen by her side and flings it at Sooyoung. “I _guess_ the company would have read it before passing it to us,” she grumbles, ducking her head, but Sooyoung still sees her cheeks redden.

Sooyoung grins in victory. She pushes herself up with a groan, reaching for the contract and scribbling down her name at the bottom. She steals a look at Jinsol’s disgruntled face— and before she can change her mind, Sooyoung lunges across the table to press a fleeting kiss to Jinsol’s cheek. Immediately afterwards, she curls back up on the sofa, burying her face into the gap between the backrest and the seat, trying to calm her racing heart. 

She doesn’t quite dare to look for Jinsol’s reaction. 

Sooyoung is impulsive. Sooyoung is headstrong and she doesn’t really quite love music the way the rest of her band does; she just likes being able to meet their fans and listen to people tell her that she’s touched their lives. She likes the thrill of drumming, she likes laying her head on Jinsol’s chest and listening to her heartbeat. 

When it’s just her and Jinsol, it’s so easy that Sooyoung thinks that she can do this forever.

“Sooyoung,” Jinsol says. When Sooyoung looks up, Jinsol’s staring at her with this imploring look in her eyes that Sooyoung hasn’t quite figured out, but knows enough that it means that she’s going to get a kiss out of it. “Come here.”

Sooyoung gladly obliges.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sometimes Sooyoung hates being in a band, really. It’s nine at night. The sky outside is dark; any other person with a normal, boring office job would be packing up or having drinks after work, but because of the possibility of touring and Jungeun signing them up for charity performances, they’re still stuck in the meeting room. Even their manager is looking a little worn out. 

“ —so yes, we’re ready to book everything and we’ve started thinking about setlists, but we’re not going to say anything until the teasers for your next album drop. Good publicity, you know. It’ll get everyone talking about the new album—think of the headlines! _The Exiled_ , the first female rock band to have sold-out shows across Asia and a worldwide tour in the works.” 

Sooyoung yawns. Their CEO keeps droning on, and Sooyoung keeps her hand steadily on Jinsol’s thigh, other hand propping her head up so she doesn’t nod off. Underneath the table, where no one can see, Jinsol lays her hand on top of Sooyoung’s.

“...and obviously, we’re bringing in producers from the big companies.” 

Sooyoung shoots awake. Next to her, Jinsol tenses up. 

“We’re working out a deal with YG, but a few other companies have shown interest in lending us producers for this album—now, I know mainstream isn’t exactly _The Exiled_ ’s style, Jinsol, but it might be worth exploring a change in direction. The last album didn’t reach the top of the charts like we thought it would.” 

Sooyoung gulps, turning to Jinsol, but the girl is already standing up, pushing her chair back with a screech. “Aren’t we producing this one ourselves? I thought that’s what we agreed on last time.”

Their manager spreads his hands and leans forward, a clear bead of sweat trickling down his shiny forehead. “I know, Jinsol. But the company thinks that— well, the more _pizazz_ the better, you know. Your songs did well when we brought in that producer from overseas.”

“But—”

Their CEO fixes Jinsol with a stern glare. “You kids already have a lot more leeway with this album than you should, considering how badly the last one did on the charts. If this album doesn’t reach our usual standards, we have to rethink the tour.” 

Jinsol falls silent, but Sooyoung catches the look that passes between her and Hyejoo. A moment later, Hyejoo’s slamming her hands onto the table, sending her pen rolling onto the floor. “But that’s not what people have been saying! If you just— just _read_ what our fans have been saying online on forums. They liked the honesty! They were proud that we wrote our own songs!”

“Yes, Hyejoo,” their manager interrupts, almost pleadingly, “We’ve seen, but—”

“What if,” muses Jungeun, leaning thoughtfully back in her chair, “we get to pick the concept? We write the songs, we’ll let the producer take over for some of the songs like you want, but we also get to work with them. We did agree on letting us have a more hands-on production last time, remember?”

Jinsol’s mouth falls open. “ _Jungeun_ ,” she hisses, sounding betrayed. 

“Hey, just a suggestion.” Jungeun raises her hands up in surrender. “If we’re not getting the final say on our songs, might as well take advantage of the process.”

Jinsol takes a deep breath in as if to speak, but Sooyoung squeezes her thigh as a warning. Jinsol snaps her mouth shut, but she still scowls down onto the table, hand curling into a fist where no one can see but Sooyoung. Hyejoo’s eyes don’t leave Jinsol.

That’s when the doubt starts creeping in. 

Sooyoung is reminded that she doesn’t really know anything about how Jinsol and Hyejoo’s relationship came to settle into this rocky allyship. Even though it's been five years since they met (and four years since they've officially debuted, if she's counting), Sooyoung still feels like she's replaceable sometimes. She had joined the band months after everyone else. Deep inside, an insecure little voice whispers that her bandmates share memories without her, things that they've unanimously decided to keep secret to protect Jinsol. They know things about Jinsol that she doesn't. Sooyoung knows that it’s not her place to pry, but sometimes she finds herself wishing that she could find out who Jinsol had been before the band.

Sooyoung wonders if they only let her stick around as a favour, solely because she is the drummer of their band.

Realistically, she knows that it's not true. It's been long enough that their friendship circles have merged, Jungeun’s cousin Yerim hitting it off right away with Hyejoo and her not-girlfriend Chaewon. Sooyoung has tried introducing Kahei to them, but her friend from her old waitressing job had never quite hit it off with the rest of them the same way Yerim and Chaewon had merged seamlessly into the band, being older and coming from a different country. Sooyoung doesn’t blame Kahei for it. But it still stings to see Jinsol and Hyejoo's bond when they're teasing each other, or to hear about Jungeun and Jinsol's shared vocal lessons at university, and know that she will never be a part of that. And even worse—when Chaewon hangs out with them, Jinsol doesn't have eyes for anyone else. Sooyoung tries not to be a jealous person, but it's hard sometimes.

That's part of the reason why Sooyoung doesn’t mind the way Jungeun obviously looks up to her. Occasionally, she pays extra attention to the girl so she can get a break from thinking about Jinsol. When the little voice niggling in the back of her mind gets too loud, all she can conjure up is the image of the special affection Jinsol reserves for Chaewon, with her little head pats and baby voice, so any distraction from that is welcome. She feels a little guilty treating Jungeun like this, of course, but hey—Jungeun’s well-aware that Jinsol is Sooyoung’s first priority. 

Their CEO harrumphs, breaking into the terse silence. “I think I can manage that for you guys.” 

Jinsol nods at Hyejoo. Hyejoo’s shoulders relax, and the hard glint in her eye immediately disappears. Sooyoung almost marvels at how quickly her expression shifts to one of pure boredom. “Sure.”

“Right,” their CEO says, looking torn between distaste and reluctant respect. “Anyway, onto the next thing—”

Sooyoung bites her lip, drumming her pen against the table— old habits die hard— and tries not to think about what Hyejoo knows about Jinsol and Sooyoung doesn’t.

  
  
  


When their manager finally calls a break, it’s only because it’s obvious that no one’s focusing. Even Jungeun has lost the usual pep in her voice. Everyone else files out of the room, leaving the band members behind.

“I didn’t know that being in a band would be this boring when I joined,” Jungeun says. Her forehead lands on the table with a thump, hair slowly sliding forward to reveal the rainbow highlights that are usually hidden. “I thought— dunno, that there would be more singing? More actual music? Less meetings?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Sooyoung says. 

“Coffee?” Jinsol asks, raising an eyebrow. “Alcohol? Boba?”

Sooyoung pouts. “Whichever.”

“Boba on me,” Hyejoo says from behind Sooyoung, seemingly materialising out of nowhere. 

Sooyoung jumps in her seat. “For fuck’s sake!” She clutches at her chest dramatically, waiting for her heart to settle down. 

Hyejoo sends her a mocking grin as she strolls back to her seat, pulling out her wallet and brandishing a black rectangle of plastic with pride. 

Jinsol gapes. “How did you get that? That’s the company card.” 

Hyejoo wiggles her fingers, grinning. “Hyunjin. Taught me how to pickpocket.” 

“Like, _the_ Kim Hyunjin?” Jinsol blurts out. “The one that Chaewon has a rivalry with?” 

Hyejoo shrugs. “Chaewon got over it. Hyunjin told her that she was pretty and you know how Chaewon is, when it comes to compliments. We started hanging out. Apparently, she used to steal stuff from Sephora to sell at half-price?”

“But the _company card_ ,” Jinsol whispers, sounding scandalised. Hyejoo doesn’t say anything, just crosses her arms and stares back at Jinsol challengingly. For a moment, there’s a wordless face-off between them. Sooyoung raises an eyebrow, amused, as Jungeun’s head whips back and forth between the two of them, looking as if she were watching a very intense tennis match. And finally— 

“Fine!” Jinsol says, throwing her hands up in the air. 

“Yes!” Sooyoung pumps her fist in the air. Jinsol spins towards her, mouth dropping in betrayal. 

“Just who’s side are you on?”

“Mine,” Jungeun croaks out, finally joining in the mess of a conversation. She lunges across the table for the credit card, and Hyejoo takes off running, throwing them a sly grin over her shoulder. Jungeun lets out a strangled yelp, scrabbling after her. “Hyejoo, give me my boba!” 

The glass door swings shut behind the two of them. Sooyoung turns to Jinsol, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“So.”

“The _company card_?” Jinsol repeats. “Stealing it from the CEO? Is she _insane_?”

Sooyoung leans into Jinsol, back against her front, and closes her eyes, basking in her warmth. “I mean—we’re the ones making the money for him. Plus, he tried taking away our album.”

“It’s our album either way,” Jinsol mutters, but she slides her arms around Sooyoung’s torso, hugging her loosely, sharp chin resting on Sooyoung’s shoulder. 

Sooyoung hums. “Not what I meant. You’re good at it, you know. The music. You deserve to make your own songs.”

The two of them are silent after that, no sound in the room except for the indistinct buzzing in the background. And finally, Jinsol sighs, her breath ghosting over Sooyoung’s neck. 

“Thank you,” she says, “for—”

Sooyoung twists around before she can finish the sentence, Jinsol’s arms falling loose from around her. She shifts so that she’s trapping Jinsol’s right leg between her knees, then reaches for Jinsol’s hands, smoothing her thumb over the subtle veins in the back of her hand. Sooyoung doesn’t want to meet Jinsol’s eyes, for some reason. She doesn’t know how to. Jinsol being vulnerable with her is something so rare, so precious that Sooyoung’s terrified of ruining it. 

“For what?”

“For believing in me,” Jinsol says, and darts forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of Sooyoung’s mouth. Sooyoung finds herself leaning forward, wanting more, chasing after the brief touch of her lips; then curses herself for being so obvious. “For— you are the only person to treat me like this.”

“Hyejoo believes in you too,” Sooyoung points out softly.

Jinsol shakes her head, watching Sooyoung play with her fingers. “Not the same. She— she knows too much about me. With you, I— I’m just Jinsol, you know. With you.”

Sooyoung’s heart speeds up. The feeling is back again—the same gaping chasm that Jinsol leaves in her, something that can’t be filled even when she’s next to her, because deep inside, Sooyoung knows that this isn’t real. She was foolish for thinking she would be satisfied with a half-relationship with Jinsol. It would _never_ be enough. All this maddening teasing does is to keep Sooyoung coming back for more. Try as she might, Sooyoung knows that she can’t let go of her feelings for Jinsol. 

She doesn’t _want_ to. Jinsol has Sooyoung wrapped around her little finger. 

Except maybe it doesn’t have to be fake, after all. 

Sooyoung takes a deep breath in, looks up, and meets Jinsol’s eyes, full of warmth. “Jinsol, I—”

“We are BACK!” 

The door bangs open. Jinsol and Sooyoung leap apart, and Sooyoung scratches the back of her neck self-consciously, willing her face not to turn red. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Jinsol inspecting her nails closely, as if she’s been doing this the whole time she’s been alone with Sooyoung.

“We got boba,” Hyejoo tells them seriously, lifting the plastic bags in her hand, the pearls in the drinks sloshing at the movement. “Doctor’s orders. To replenish your soul, after having it sucked out by meetings.” 

“Thanks, Hyejoo,” Jinsol answers, smiling; but the laughter doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

* * *

This album will make or break them, their manager tells them afterwards. Sooyoung nods as solemnly as she can when his eyes land on her, and doesn’t think about how she always wakes up alone. And for the next few weeks, they practice until Hyejoo’s fingers start bleeding. Jinsol writes music in the dead of night, and sometimes Sooyoung kisses the callouses on her fingertips when the two of them are alone in the studio and wishes that she knows how to make Jinsol happy.

The days always blur together in the lead-up to an album. 

“We need to find a theme for the songs,” Jinsol mutters, scribbling down in her notebook furiously. Her neck is bent at an angle that’s frankly starting to get a little concerning, but Sooyoung doesn’t have a death wish. She doesn’t dare to interrupt Jinsol’s creative process. 

“I helped out with the last album,” Hyejoo offers, raising a hand. “I’m out of thinking juice.”

Jinsol points at her without raising her head. “Shhh.”

“What do you have right now?” Jungeun asks. They’ve been sitting with Jinsol for hours now, waiting for her to come up with something— maybe it’s unfair that the pressure is on her, but she’s their best writer. Sooyoung helps her come up with lyrics occasionally, but the true credit belongs to Jinsol.

Hyejoo cranes her neck, peering over Jinsol’s shoulder. “It’s blank.”

“I’m trying to write here,” Jinsol grumbles, turning away. 

Hyejoo’s grin turns predatory. She slides out of her seat and sidles up to Jinsol, arms swinging loosely by her side. Sooyoung slides her headphones down around her neck to catch the budding argument.

“ _Oooo_ , Jinsol doesn’t have an idea for once,” Hyejoo taunts, pitching her voice as high as it will go. “The Exiled’s very own lyrical genius, Jinsol? Crabby about being stuck?” 

“Shut up,” Jinsol mutters, but there’s no stopping Hyejoo once she’s on a roll. She is the one who cares the least about accommodating Jinsol out of them, preferring to tease and prod and make fun of her friends. Sooyoung gets it. She’s the same type of person—she just happens to have a soft spot for Jinsol.

“I don’t know why you can’t just scribble something dumb down, you know,” Hyejoo tosses out carelessly, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Something that rhymes. _I want to spend my nights with you, in the morning we have nothing to lose_. There you go.”

“That’s just stupid.”

“Maybe it’ll help to work out your writer’s block. The first draft always sucks, anyway.” 

“What do _you_ know about writing?” Jinsol snaps. “It’s not like you’re helping.” 

“Maybe if you tried!” Hyejoo throws up her hands in the air in exasperation. “Just take inspiration from something in your life! I dunno! Your past!” 

Jinsol slams her notebook shut. When she pushes herself up, fists pressed against the surface of the table, her eyes are narrowed with barely concealed anger. “What, you want me to write about _Seul_?”

Sooyoung doesn’t expect everyone to fall silent, but that’s what happens. In their practice room, where there is always the sound of talking or music or laughter, it rings especially hollow. When she turns to Jinsol, she sees the way the girl’s knuckles have turned white from force; the small tremors making their way through her body.

“For once, Hyejoo, can you leave me alone?” Jinsol says quietly.

Sooyoung doesn’t miss the look that Hyejoo exchanges with Jungeun. It’s one of those little things that she will never understand. 

But she doesn’t need to, she decides. She doesn’t mind bearing the brunt of Jinsol’s anger. 

Sooyoung sets down her drumsticks. 

“Hey, Jinsol, wanna go for a walk?”

“I don’t,” Jinsol says, sounding too composed to be genuine. Her guitar lies at her feet, forgotten, shiny brown wood with their signatures on it from the day they got signed by their label. “I don’t want to.” 

Sooyoung stands up. “Jinsol.”

Jinsol looks at her, face pinched. “Sooyoung,” she says, in the same, scarily calm voice. 

“Jungeun,” Jungeun mutters, but Sooyoung can’t think about anything but Jinsol now; the way she is obviously hurting. She would do anything to make her feel better. She would bear the pain herself, fight someone—it doesn’t matter, as long as Jinsol doesn’t have to feel like this anymore. Sooyoung steps forward, stretching out her hand, palm up. 

Finally, Jinsol huffs, striding to the door and shrugging on her jacket. She ignores Sooyoung, burying her hands in her pocket instead. 

“Let’s go.”

Sooyoung hurries after her, ignoring Hyejoo and Jungeun’s eyes lingering on their backs.

They end up circling around the nearby buildings, caps pulled down low to cover their faces. Sooyoung doesn’t say anything, just matches Jinsol’s angry, hurried pace. And finally, Jinsol starts to slow down after their third round circling the block in complete silence, obviously starting to tire. Sooyoung cups her hand around Jinsol’s elbow, leading them to one of the smaller streets where barely anyone is passing by.

“Look, I’m not going to ask you about it,” she says, once she makes sure that no one’s within earshot, “but what’s bothering you?” 

Jinsol makes an irritated little noise, stomping her foot. “You said that you won’t ask.”

“I know,” Sooyoung says patiently. “I just want you to know that I’m willing to listen, if you want to talk about it. You don’t have to.” 

Jinsol stares down at the ground. Wearily, as if she is wishing for it to open up and suck her inside. And finally— 

“Thanks.” Jinsol says, so softly that Sooyoung barely hears. “I— it’s just— it’s hard.”

Sooyoung stays quiet.

“It’s the fucking album,” Jinsol says. “If— if I get it wrong and we don’t get on the charts, it’s going to be my fault. We’ve worked too hard to have our tour cancelled. Because of me. Hyejoo only argued with him because of me.” She sniffles, hiding her face in Sooyoung’s shoulder. “And I don’t mind Hyejoo bugging me about stuff— it’s just— I don’t like it when she brings up the things that have hurt me.”

“Your past,” Sooyoung says quietly. Not for the first time, she wonders what really went down. 

“It’s still hurting me.” Jinsol pulls away, wiping at her face. “Look, Sooyoung, I’m sorry. I just— I can’t talk about it. I just want to forget that it ever happened and move on. I’m sorry.” 

“Hey,” Sooyoung says, reaching out to give Jinsol a gingerly pat on the arm. “I respect that. I won’t ask. You don’t have to tell me.” 

“Sorry.”

Without thinking, Sooyoung knocks her shoulder against Jinsol’s. “You don’t have to be sorry,” she says, pouring as much sincerity as she can into her voice. “You don’t owe me anything. You _never_ will.” 

Jinsol scuffles her feet and smiles up at her, looking a little uncertain. 

“And plus, I can always help you out with the lyrics,” Sooyoung adds. “Look. I’ve gone through my fair share of experiences. Maybe I can write a song about time a toddler puked on me when I was babysitting. We can name it, I dunno— things coming from your mouth.” 

“God, shut up,” Jinsol says weakly, hitting Sooyoung in the arm. “Little Miss Perfect.”

“That’s you,” Sooyoung returns.

“Not when I can barely write a song,” Jinsol mutters.

Sooyoung darts another look behind them. There is no one around. She takes the chance to step forward, taking Jinsol’s hands and sliding them into her pockets so that they are wrapped tight around each other. 

“I don’t belong to the music like you do.”

“No,” Jinsol replies. Her head is on Sooyoung’s shoulder again, a warm, comforting weight; they’ve had this conversation once before, over dinner together. Sooyoung wonders if Jinsol remembers. “But you love it.” 

“Maybe,” Sooyoung says. Music is a distraction for her. Ever since she’s become aware of her growing feelings, she’s learnt to lose herself in practice, putting on her headphones and drumming to songs that Jinsol doesn’t like until her arms are sore. She practices alone most of the time, when Jungeun’s in the recording studio hitting runs and Jinsol is hunched over the tiny table in their practice room. 

“We love it in different ways,” Jinsol whispers. “Music is my entire life. If I don’t give it everything, I lose. If I do, I lose everything.”

Sooyoung closes her eyes, and thinks about the performer on stage. Thinks about watching Jinsol sway from side to side during their sets; with the sort of careless abandon that tells you that she has nothing else to live for. That’s where she belongs. To the stage, to the music, and not to any person. 

And it makes Sooyoung love her all the more for it.

“That’s what makes you so good,” she says. 

It might have been easier if she could make her vision go blurry and see Jung Jinsol, rockstar instead of Jinsol, her friend who kisses her like she wants it mean something. 

Jinsol sighs and pulls Sooyoung closer, burying her face in her neck. “Thank you,” she says, squeezing her hand.

Sooyoung thinks that Jinsol would have kissed her in this moment if they weren’t in public. 

“Anything for you,” she says, and means it with her entire heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is the band name cool enough or??? 
> 
> comments always appreciated! 
> 
> twitter: [yvezoul](https://twitter.com/yvezoul)  
> curiouscat: [yvezoul](https://curiouscat.me/yvezoul)  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> [check out this snazzy fanart that lynn drew](https://twitter.com/yvezoul)   
> 


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